What Do You Say
by Ammie Hawk
Summary: On the road with a new companion after the events in St. Louis, what will Sam and Dean do with a supposed civilian now traveling with them? Will Sam and Dean be able to keep their secrets? Or will secrets between the brothers break them apart? Slash/Yaoi meaning male on male pairings.
1. Chapter 1

What Do You Say

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: I in no way shape or form own Gundam Wing or Supernatural, they belong to their respective owners and copyright holders.

Summary: On the road with a new companion after the events in St. Louis, what will Sam and Dean do with a supposed civilian now traveling with them? Will Sam and Dean be able to keep their secrets? Or will secrets between the brothers break them apart?

Chapter 1

Trowa Barton, former pilot of the Gundam Heavyarms, stared in horror at the television screen his fellow circus troupe was gathered around. He was currently on tour with the circus he had joined back in the war. Their location was the Sanq Kingdom, doing a special performance for the princess of the Sanq Kingdom, the former Queen of the World, Relena Peacecraft.

However, that was ultimately beside the point, in the face of what was on the screen. In a breaking news report from the States, it was said a serial killer in Missouri had been found dead in his latest victim's home. But no, that couldn't be true, he was going on a trip with his brother to meet up with his dad, who was out hunting or something like that.

With that thought in mind, he went over to his duffle and pulled out his cellphone. He got into his contacts and started scrolling, finally landing on the one he wanted. He hit the dial button and waited for it to ring. As he waited, he prayed to whatever deity was out there, not that he had much faith that there was one, that it was just a case of mistaken identity.

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In a shabby motel room a few hours outside St. Louis, Missouri a phone started ringing. The two occupants of the room startled awake by the sudden noise. They looked at each other for a moment before the shorter of the two reached out for the device.

"Hello?" he answered groggily.

"Dean?" the person on the other end sounded relieved. "God, you don't know how glad I am to hear your voice."

"Trowa?" green eyes narrowed as he looked around for a clock. "Why are you calling me at… 3 o'clock in the morning?"

"Sorry, I forgot about the time difference," Trowa sighed. "I was watching the news and it said you were dead. I just had to call you, I'm sorry."

"Whoa, wait, what? They have our news over in Europe? That's beside the point," his eyes rolled as he met those of his brother. "Look, Tro, everything's fine. I'm still with Sammy, still looking for my dad. You stay, enjoy your show. I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're still in Missouri," it wasn't a question and Dean just shook his head. "I'm getting on the first available flight. I'll see you in a couple days."

"Trowa, I'm not going to be here in a couple days," silence greeted him. "You hung up on me, didn't you?"

He pulled the phone away from his ear, glared at it, and tossed it angrily down on the bed. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Why him? Why now? And why did his kid brother have to be sitting on the bed across from him listening to the entire fucking conversation?

"What?" he didn't even look at Sam. "You've got something to say, say it."

"Nothing," Sam shook his head. "I'm just kinda curious who Trowa is, and why he cared."

"Well," he sighed and finally looked up, "about a year ago now, Dad and I were doing a job. Random people kept disappearing along the route of a traveling circus. Dad thought, and I agreed, that there might be something up with the circus. Well, we did the usual investigating, but were coming up cold so we decided to get to know the troupe a bit better. Anyway, there was an acrobat who was about my age, so I figured I'd see what he knew. The guy's name was, is, Trowa, and he wasn't just an acrobat, he was a clown and lion tamer as well. Well, we kinda hit it off, you now hung out, had a few beers after the show. I guess you could say we were becoming friends. About a week later, just as they were getting ready to move on, Dad suddenly pulls the plug on the investigation, and we hit the road. I never did find out why he did that, but anyway, Trowa and I ended up meeting up a few times after that, when he wasn't on the road and I wasn't on a job. Anyway, we saw each other a few days before I went and got you. He was headed off on a European tour with the circus and was gonna be gone for several months, so we figured we'd at least wish each other luck on our trips. Apparently, he saw the news report about my 'death' and got worried, so he called to see if I was alright. That's it, nothing more."

Sam gave him a funny look, "So what I'm getting from this is that Dad just bailed on a job for no apparent reason and you befriended a clown. A clown, Dean?"

"He's not just a clown," Dean said defensively. "He's an acrobat and lion tamer, and a very talented performer."

"I'm not saying he's not," he held up his hands placatingly. "It's just surprising is all. So explain to me why Dad would just leave. It's not like him to just quit a job before it was finished."

"You don't think I don't know that?" the shorter of the pair snapped. "That's part of the reason I've kept in touch with Trowa. The disappearances didn't exactly stop, but Dad refused to go back and actually told me to drop it but I can't. Everything in me is telling me something's up with them, but I've looked into everything, man, but nothing matches. Trowa checks out, but I can't get a read on the others in the troupe."

"So you want to check it out?"

"Naw," Dean shook his head and lay down. "The troupe is in Europe anyway. And besides, we have to keep looking for Dad. So let's get some sleep, we roll out at first light."

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Trowa sat in the airport terminal waiting for his flight back to the States. The first flight he'd been able to book was still an hour away from boarding, much less take off. While he was waiting, he pulled out his cellphone and hit the speed dial one. It only took a moment for the call to connect.

"Yuy speaking," the person on the other end said briskly.

"Heero, it's Trowa," he answered.

"Hn," the former Wing pilot grunted in acknowledgement.

"I need a favor," the clown sighed. "I need you and Wufei to look into the incident in St. Louis."

"The serial killer, who ended up dead," Heero said in a monotone, probably looking up anything he could find on it on the computer. "Dean Winchester."

"It wasn't Dean Winchester," Trowa shook his head, not that the other could see. "It was someone else, and they framed Dean. I want you to look into it, and bury it if you have to. Just make it go away."

"It may take awhile," he gave a barely audible sigh. "There's too much publicity on this particular case, but we'll do what we can."

"Thanks. I appreciate this Heero," the unibanged teen laid his head back on the top of the chair. "And don't worry about the real Dean, I'm on my way there now."

"Roger that," Heero grunted. "Take care."

With that the line went dead, and Trowa relaxed as best he could till it was time for him to leave.

* * *

Ammie: I know, another story, another something to not finish... I'm trying here people. Anyway, let me know what you think, and also you can find my on facebook: Ammie Hawk.


	2. Chapter 2

What Do You Say

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: Happy Birthday to me!

AN: Okay, so this chapter has been brewing for awhile and I decided to finish and post it today. Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy.

Chapter 2

Trowa sighed as he made his way down the highway toward Lawrence, Kansas. It had been weeks since the St. Louis incident and he was just now catching up with Dean. Not that it was entirely his fault that it had taken him this long. No, that blame fell on Dean, for not staying in one place for more than a couple days, and his good friend, Quatre Raberba Winner. Don't get me wrong, he loved the little blond to death but he could be such a mother-hen at times. He had called the former Sandrock pilot as soon as his plane landed in New York City. And then he had insisted Trowa stay with him for at least a week to recover from his jetlag.

From there he had to track down the elusive Winchester. After another week, he finally got a straight answer from him about where he was headed. Armed with that information, he borrowed Quatre's personal jet and headed out to Kansas City. And that's how he ended up on his bike to Lawrence, Kansas, the once hometown of Dean Winchester.

He arrived in the small town just after sunset and began looking for a place to stay for a few days while he searched for Dean. As soon as he pulled into the motel parking lot, he spotted a very familiar car outside one of the rooms. With a small smirk, he parked next to the black '67 Chevy Impala. He removed his helmet, attaching it to the handlebars as he dismounted, shaking his head to free his hair of the sweat it had accumulated in the past few hours. He gave a small sigh as he made his way to the room the Impala was parked in front of, deciding the best way to approach the situation. A devious smirk crossed his face as he raised his hand to knock.

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Sam and Dean Winchester sat in their hotel room in Lawrence, Kansas after talking with Jenny, the woman who had moved into their childhood home. Sam was sitting at his computer, trying to figure out what exactly they were facing while Dean lay back on one of the beds, fiddling with his phone as if he were expecting a call.

They were interrupted from their individual pursuits by a loud banging on the door.

"Preventers!" the person announced clearly. "Open up!"

The brothers shared a look before Dean bolted into the bathroom, leaving his younger brother to get the door. Sam rolled his eyes but made his way over to the door, picking up his gun on the way. He opened it, not removing the chain lock, the gun hidden behind the door out of sight of the visitor.

"Can I help you officer?" he asked the young man on the other side, wondering what the Peacekeeping organization could possibly want from them.

"I'm looking for Dean Winchester," the unibanged man said quietly, though his voice carried very well in the small room.

"I'm sorry, who?" Sam asked, feigning confusion.

"Dean," the man glared slightly through his one visible eye. "I know he's here, Sam, and if you don't let me in and produce Dean, I'll be forced to take you in for aiding and abetting."

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be aiding and abetting, sir," Sam frowned but removed the chain from the door anyway, concealing the gun in his waistband under his shirt, hoping Dean had managed to sneak out.

The unibanged man shoved past Sam and made his way to the middle of the room. His green eyes took in the room at a glance before landing on the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar.

"Dean," he shook his head, "I know you're in there. Come out now, and Sam won't get hurt."

There was muffled cursing, followed by a loud thump before the door opened to reveal the elder Winchester, with his hands in the air. The stranger regarded him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. The brothers shared a confused look, then turned their attention back to the laughing man.

"Wait," Dean scowled, lowering his hands and crossing his arms over his chest, "Trowa?"

"You should've seen the look on your faces," Trowa doubled up, clutching his sides.

"Dude, what the hell?" the shorter brother asked, scowling. "I thought I told you not to come."

"And why would I do that?" the one visible eye narrowed as its owner instantly sobered. "I thought you were dead, Dean."

"Yeah, well, as I told you on the phone, and as you can clearly see, I'm not dead," Dean shook his head. "So it was great seeing you again, but Sam and I are currently in the middle of something here, we'll meet up in a couple days. Right now, you have to go."

"Or," the auburn haired man sat down in one of the chairs, crossing his long legs, "I can stay."

"Tro-Trowa, no."

"Dean, you can't stop me," Trowa shook his head. "One, it's a free country and I can do what I want, within reason of course; two, you're technically a dead man and can't tell me what to do; and three, I've got nothing but time now, I can't go back and join the troupe now. Relena might be a bit disappointed that she missed seeing me, but she'll get over it. So, fill me in on what you're doing, I can help. And trust me, you want to keep me around, especially after what happened in St. Louis."

"Dean," Sam gave his brother a pointed look.

The two Winchesters had a silent argument for a moment before Dean turned his attention back to the circus performer.

"Trowa, look," the short haired brunet sighed, "Sam and I have got a few things to take care of, make yourself at home," he shot his brother a look to stop him saying anything. "There's beer in the fridge as well as some leftover takeout, help yourself. We'll be back in a few hours and we'll talk more then. Okay?"

"Fine," Trowa nodded. "I could use a shower anyway. I expect answers when you get back."

"Alright," Dean shook his head.

"Dean!" Sam protested.

"I said alright," the older brother glared at his sibling. "Just get in the car."

With a final look in the clown's direction, he grabbed Sam's arm and began directing him out the door. Once outside, he let Sam go and they both got into the Impala. Dean started the engine and exited the parking lot. They hadn't even made it two blocks before Sam turned to look at his brother.

"What the hell, Dean?"

"What?" the shorter man groaned.

"What was that back there?" Sam asked, confused. "A friend of yours shows up in our hotel room and you're just going to invite him to stay and then spill your guts? This isn't like you, Dean."

"Look, Sammy," Dean glanced over, "I'm not gonna tell him everything, but Trowa's stubborn and he would've followed us if I didn't get him something. I'd rather have him safe at the hotel than getting in our way and possibly hurt on this hunt. I'll come up with some bullshit story to tell him that will get him off our backs and stop worrying. If you didn't notice, he kinda got the drop on us and I didn't have a lot of time to come up with a good story to get him to go away."

"Fine," the taller brother sighed in resignation. "It better be good, Dean, he has to be gone before we move on, we can't have him traveling around with us, it's too dangerous."

"I know," Dean agreed. "And I want nothing more than for him to go back to Europe where he'll be relatively safe, but he won't go. Let's just do what we gotta do and get the hell outta Dodge."

"Yeah."

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After the brothers left, Trowa headed back out to his bike and grabbed his duffle. He then went back inside and took a quick shower. Once he was finished, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and flopped back on the closest bed, which he was pretty sure Dean had claimed, and fished his phone out of his dirty pants pocket. He propped himself up on the pillows, cracked open his beer and started scrolling through his contacts. When he found the one he wanted, he hit dial and put the device to his ear.

~Harvelle's Roadhouse,~ a female voice answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, Ellen, it's Trowa," the former Heavyarms pilot smiled, not that she could see it.

~Trowa Barton,~ Ellen chuckled. ~Thought you were in Europe, kid. What'cha doing calling me for? You're not working a job are you?~

"Not at present, Ellen," he sighed. "As for my being in Europe, something came up and I'm now State side again. Anyway, I've got some time to kill, and was wondering if you had anything crop up in the Midwest area."

~Not at the moment, no,~ he could hear the frown in her voice. ~Only thing in that area I've heard of recently is a thing in Lawrence, Kansas, but a couple of other hunters are on that. I recommend not getting involved in that one, Trowa, it's personal for them.~

"Understood," he agreed. "Well, if you hear of something, let me know. I'll probably be by in the next few days, since I'm in the area."

~Alright, see ya soon then, kiddo. In the meantime, do me a favor, Trowa, relax, take it easy, and enjoy your time off.~

"Yeah, yeah, you sound like Quatre," Trowa shook his head. "Anyway, I'll talk to ya later, Ellen. Have a good night."

~Night, Trowa.~

He ended the call, and settled back on the bed to await the return of the Winchester brothers.

It was several hours later, after two in the morning, when the former Heavyarms pilot woke to the sound of the hotel door being unlocked. He pushed himself into a sitting position as the two brothers finally cleared the threshold. The pair paused as two sets of green eyes locked.

"Right," Dean cleared his throat, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. "Hey, Sammy, think you could give us a few?"

"No," the unibanged man interjected, his one visible eye regarding the younger man. "He looks exhausted, Dean. I got a room while you were out. We can talk there."

"If you got your own room, why are you still in here?" Sam asked incredulously.

"I'm not an idiot," Trowa scoffed. "I've known Dean for awhile now. If I hadn't been here when he got back, he wouldn't be here when I got back. Or were you hoping to ditch me as well, Sam?"

"I'm not trying to ditch you," Dean said before his brother could retort, running his hand through his hair. "Come on, let's go."

He went over and held the door open for Trowa. Sam watched them leave with a look of confusion, but quickly shook it off and headed to bed. He'd ask Dean about it later.

Once outside, Trowa led Dean along the row of doors until he reached the right one. He fished the keys out of his pocket and opened the motel room. He flipped on the light and did a quick scan of the room before letting Dean into the room. He tossed the keys onto the table and sat down on the edge of the nearest bed.

"So?" the former Heavyarms pilot began. "Care to explain what happened?"

"Look, Trowa," the brunet sighed. "It was just a case of mistaken identity. One I'm really not interested in clearing up, cause I don't want to get arrested. And if you would've let me explain over the phone, we could've avoided all this," he waved his hand at the motel room.

"I'm here because I want to be, Dean," Trowa shook his head. "No matter what you said over the phone I still would've come. I thought you were dead, and that's one of the worst things possible, just ask my friend Quatre. Anyway, I'm here now, and I'm not leaving, so get used to it."

"Okay," Dean gave a resigned sigh and sat down beside him. "What about the troupe? Won't they get suspicious about your sudden disappearance from the tour?"

"Not really," he smirked, like it was an inside joke. "I've been disappearing frequently since I joined them over ten years ago. They've learned to cope without me."

"So, where do we go from here?" the elder Winchester turned to look at him. "You can't come with me."

"You're still looking for your dad," the unibanged man nodded. "And you haven't told them about us."

"I've been meaning to," Dean sighed. "It just hasn't come up in general conversation."

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't told anyone about you yet, either," Trowa chuckled. "Except for Quatre, but he pries. Anyway, I'll be gone first thing in the morning. I'm gonna head north and visit some friends, and you can continue your search. Hopefully, we'll meet up again in the near future."

"Yeah," Dean sighed again, pushing to his feet. "I should probably get back before Sam gets even more suspicious than he already is."

"Or," the former terrorist grabbed his wrist, cutting off his retreat, "you could stay for a little longer, just tell him we had a lot of issues to work out."

He pulled Dean to him, claiming his mouth in a desperate kiss. The brunet didn't protest but let the other take control of the situation. Trowa maneuvered them over to the bed, not breaking the kiss, where they fell in a tangle of limbs and flying clothes.

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A couple hours later, Dean made his way out of the room, leaving a sleeping Trowa behind. He hated leaving his boyfriend like that, but what else could he do. He had to get back to Sam and continue looking for their father. Sometimes, he just wished he could give up hunting all together, just to stay with the auburn haired man. Or even let him in on the secret and take him on the road, so he could let Sammy return to his normal life. But neither of those were an option, as he couldn't give up hunting, he knew too much, and he couldn't bring himself to put Trowa in that kind of danger. God, his life was so screwed up.

With a heavy sigh, he unlocked his motel room and slipped inside. His brother was sprawled out on the bed closest to the door, presumably deep asleep. He gave a silent sigh, he seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight, and located his duffle bag at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a fresh set of clothes, changed, and then crawled into his own bed.

He felt as if he'd just closed his eyes when he felt Sam shaking him awake. He sat up with a groan, and then set about getting ready to leave. It didn't take long before the pair were back in the Impala and on the road, with Sam behind the wheel.

"So," the younger man's eyes glanced sideways briefly before shifting back to the road, "I didn't hear you come in last night, what time did you come back?"

"What are you, my mother?" Dean asked incredulously.

"No, I'm just curious," Sam sighed. "I mean, this guy shows up out of nowhere, knowing who _both_ of us are, and then you disappear with him for hours, and I get no explanation?"

"I told you before," the elder brother sighed as well, "we're friends. He knew who you were because you're my kid brother, I've talked to him about you before. And he saw the news and, I guess, calling wasn't enough cause he decided to come find me. Don't ask me how he did it, cause I didn't get an answer on that one. Anyway, we talked for a few hours. I told him it was just a case of mistaken identity. He bought it and is heading out to see some friends later today.

"Don't worry, he doesn't know anything about what we actually do and, quite frankly, I want to keep it that way. It's nice having a normal friend. I know, I know," he threw up his hands at a look from his brother, "I gave you hell for it back in St. Louis, but I get it, dude, I do."

"Okay," the shaggy haired brunet shook his head, but it still felt as if his brother wasn't telling him something. "So, where are we going?"

* * *

Ammie: I know this is kind of a short chapter, but hopefully it'll move the story along. Anyway, let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

What Do You Say

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: Don't own, just like playing in other people's playgrounds.

AN: So RL has been busy for me recently, but I finally got the opportunity to finish up this chapter. I can't promise many updates soon, but I am still writing and hopefully will get back into a groove soonish. Anyway, here you go.

Chapter 3

Trowa parked his bike outside Harvelle's Roadhouse and made his way inside. It was still relatively early so no one was there when he entered. This didn't bother him as he had frequented the place often enough for this to be a regular occurrence. He made his way behind the bar and grabbed a beer from the mini fridge. He had just cracked the bottle open when he heard the telltale click of a gun behind him.

"You really gonna shoot me, Ellen?" he turned to face the woman behind him.

"Trowa?" she asked, lowering the shotgun in her hand.

"You know," he gave her a smirk and took a pull of his beer, completely calm, "you tell me every time I come here to make myself at home, and then when I actually do you pull a gun on me. You're kinda giving off mixed signals, Ellen."

"I swear, Trowa Barton," she shook her head and set down the gun, and pulled him into a motherly hug. "I wasn't expecting you till evening at least."

"I told you I was Stateside," he shrugged and made his way to one of the bar stools. "I just failed to mention I was closer than I implied. Anyway, how're things going?"

"Same old, same old," she grinned, pouring herself a drink. "You looking for a job?"

"That is the eventual goal, yes," he chuckled, that was one of the reasons he liked her so much, she wasn't one to beat around the bush. "That doesn't mean I have to leave right now, though. I have time to catch up first. Where's Jo?"

"Eh, probably still sleeping," she shrugged. "And Ash is passed out around her somewhere. How bout I make us some breakfast, I'm sure that'll bring the other two out."

Ellen disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the former pilot to finish his drink. As he waited, he looked around the old place. It was in need of an overhaul but it suited the crowd that normally frequented the place. He'd offered, once, to help her fix it up, in return for all she'd done for him, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"Trowa!" a female voice interrupted his contemplations, and he turned, just in time to catch an armful of young blonde.

"Hi, Jo," he laughed, managing to keep his seat and not spill his beer from her over enthusiastic greeting. "How've you been?"

"Good. What've you been up to? It's been forever," she punched him on the arm.

"I've been busy," he grinned, "traveling with the circus."

"Been on any jobs recently?" Jo asked, with too much curiosity for his taste.

"Joanna Beth!" her mother scolded as she came back from the kitchen, carrying the food she'd made. "Let the man breathe. And I don't want to hear another word about hunting out of you."

The trio caught up over breakfast and made small talk, an ease settling over them that only comes from familiarity. Once they were finished eating, Ellen sent her daughter to the back to clean up, while she filled the unibanged man in on a case she'd caught wind of.

"So, I've been hearing some chatter about this place in Texas, if you're interested," she began when she was sure Jo was sufficiently distracted.

"What kind of place?" he asked, needing the distraction.

She gave him all the details she had.

"Sounds like just what I need right now," he nodded, deciding to take the case. "I think I'll say goodbye to Jo and then take off. Oh, and Ellen, I was wondering of you could do me a favor."

"Name it, Trowa, you know that," she gave him a curious look.

"Well, it's more for a friend," he sighed, "but with how many people come in and out of here, you might catch wind of something."

"Okay?" she prodded, this wasn't typical behavior for the young acrobat.

"I'm not expecting anything to really turn up," he rubbed the back of his neck, "but if you hear anything about a John Winchester could you pass it along?"

"What business you got with Winchester, boy?" she snapped, her eyes glaring daggers at him.

"Personally, nothing," he frowned, she hadn't called him boy since he first got into the business. "A friend of mine is looking for him. Why, do you know him?"

"He's bad news. You just stay away from him, ya hear. Something you should pass on to that friend of yours, too."

"I'll keep that in mind," he frowned before going to find Jo.

Once he said his goodbyes, he got back on his bike and headed out for Texas.

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A few weeks later, Trowa pulled into a rundown old junkyard in South Dakota. He normally wouldn't bother the old junker, but his bike had started acting up on him on his last job and he couldn't overlook the problem. He parked the bike in front of the old house, and braced himself to deal with the old codger.

"What d'ya want?" he found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

"Bobby, it's Trowa," he very slowly and carefully reached up and removed his helmet.

"Yeah, so? What d'ya want?" Bobby didn't lower the gun.

"My bike's acting up," the unibanged man sighed, "I need some parts. You know I'll pay."

"Yeah, fine," the shotgun finally lowered. "You know where everything is."

"Thanks, Bobby," Trowa shook his head, and headed around to the back.

He quickly found the parts he needed and started the repairs. He was about halfway done when his phone started ringing. He wiped his hands on an old shop rag Bobby had laying around and pulled the device from his pocket and put it to his ear.

"Barton speaking," he said.

~Trowa, look, I need a favor,~ the voice on the other end said frantically.

"Duo," the former clown shook his head, trust the self proclaimed Shinigami to start a call like that, "slow down. What's wrong?"

~I need some help,~ the former Deathscythe pilot sighed. ~There's this faith healer in Nebraska, and he's actually healing people, but the thing is, he's got a Reaper working his so called miracles. I don't know how he's doing it, but we've got to figure it out, innocent people are dying.~

"Duo, what are you talking about?" Trowa frowned. "A Reaper?"

~Look, Trowa, I don't have time for games,~ Duo practically growled. ~I know you're a Hunter, and I'll explain more when you get here. So are you in or out?~

"Fine," he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm currently fixing up my bike. Give me about twenty-four to forty-eight hours, okay?"

~Great, I'll send you the co-ordinance.~

And with that, the line went dead. With a heavy sigh, he replaced the phone in his pocket and made his way into the house. He made a beeline for the fridge and a cold beer. Bobby had told him years ago to make himself at home when he was there, as long as he passed the front door.

"Bobby," he called, cracking the beer and making his way further into the house. "Hey, Bobby, got a question for you."

"What's that?" the old Hunter didn't look up from the large book he was reading.

"What do you know about Reapers?" he leaned a shoulder against the doorframe as he took a swig.

"Reapers?" Bobby's head shot up quickly. "The beings that escort the dead?"

"I'm assuming," the unibanged man shrugged. "Just got a tip about one in Nebraska following a faith healer and performing miracles."

"Reapers don't just work with the living," he frowned and pushed to his feet, moving to one of the numerous bookcases lining the wall. He pulled out a thin volume and began flipping through it. "They're typically seen only by the dead or dying. It's rumored that powerful or high ranking Reapers are able to interact freely with us normal folk, but most choose not to. Now, one actually working for a mere mortal, unheard of, unless…" he turned the book and handed it to the other. "You're looking at some pretty nasty spellwork."

The one visible green eye scanned the page quickly, "Thanks, Bobby. I'll be leaving in a couple hours, once my bike's fixed. Mind if I borrow this?"

"Bring it back in one piece," Bobby shrugged, returning to his seat.

"Have I ever not?" he pushed off the doorframe. "I'll keep in touch."

"Whatever," the bearded man waved him off.

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Thirty-six hours later, Trowa found himself pulling into an old farmyard with a white tent erected in front of a two story house. A large sign outside the entrance of the tent proclaimed it to be a meeting of Roy Le Grange. He found a place to park his bike among the myriad of other cars filling the lot and took off his helmet.

"Trowa! Trowa!"

His gaze drifted over the crowd till he spotted a figure donned in black jeans and a red shirt, covered by a black leather biker's jacket. He dismounted and made his way over to his old friend.

"Duo," he greeted the braided man with a hug. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, too long," Duo shook his head. "Anyway, before we get to the mushy shit, I'll fill you in on what's going on."

"Yeah," the unibanged man shook his head. "You can start with how you know what I do. None of the others know exactly what I do, and I've kept in better contact with them than you."

"That's a long story for another time," the former Deathscythe pilot rubbed the back of his neck. "Suffice it to say, I know. Right now, we have this case to deal with. A Reaper has been bound to someone within this crew and is trading lives for this faith healer."

"If you know all this, why don't you take care of it?"

"I can't," he sighed. "I can't get close enough to figure out who it is. I would've called Heero or Fei, but they don't know about all this, and it needs to stop, now. This is murder on a supernatural level. We have to stop this. Please, Trowa?"

"Fine," the former clown said. "Let's go inside and see what's going on."

The pair of them followed the few remaining stragglers into the tent and found a couple seats in the very back. They had just settled in as the healer was being escorted onto the stage. The blind man had barely begun the service when someone in the front scoffed.

The emerald gaze swiveled to the front, he knew that voice. There, seated in the second row, was Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam. He made to get up when the reverend called him to the front, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"Let me go," he said quietly. "If what you say is true, he won't want to be healed that way."

"No, Tro," Duo hissed in his ear. "We can't make a scene, not here. We need to handle that after hours. I only brought you here to do some recon. Maybe you'll catch something I didn't."

"Fine," the unibanged man sat back and began watching the spectacle around him.

He remained silent for the remainder of the service. His eyes never stopped moving as he took in all aspects of the crew and congregation.

Once the service ended, the two former pilots made their way out of the tent. Emerald orbs scanned the parking lot, but he couldn't spot the one vehicle he wanted. Looks like he'd have to track down the elusive Winchester yet again.

"So," the braided man asked as they made their way through the sea of cars, "what do ya think?"

"Well," his friend shook his head, he had to focus on the task at hand, "given the premise and spectacle of the, for lack of a better term, show, we're looking at an inside job, either family or crew. The congregation inevitably varies daily due to the miracles performed. The miracles draw people in but due to people being healed, it would send them back to their old ordinary lives. You will have your regulars and loyal followers, but they would've shown up after the first miracle was performed."

"I was afraid of that," Duo sighed. "Look, think you could poke around, ask some questions? I'd do it myself, but I can't."

"Okay, wait," Trowa stopped, catching his companion's arm. "Before I take on this case, you have to answer a few questions. First, how did you know I was a Hunter? Only Une knows that fact. And second, why can't you investigate this on your own? You know the details, you were the one that told me it was a Reaper."

"Look, if you know what to look for, it's pretty easy to spot Hunters. All that 'vacation' time you took, anyone who knows about the supernatural and had access to your movements, could figure it out. And as for why I can't take this case, if someone here is actually trapping Reapers, I'm at risk."

"So you're telling me you're a Reaper?" the one visible brow rose incredulously.

"Kinda," the former Deathscythe pilot rubbed the back of his neck. "It's complicated."

"That does explain a few things," the former clown shook his head.

"Like what?"

"Like your moniker, for example," Trowa chuckled at the other's indignation. "Fine, I'll take the case. But you owe me."

"Anything you want," Duo grinned. "So where so we start?"

"We're going to get a motel room," the unibanged man sighed. "I'll start probing tomorrow. Follow me."

He made his way over to his bike as Duo took off in the other direction. They met at the main road and Trowa took the lead and led the way through town. It took awhile but he finally found the one he wanted. He pulled in and waited for the other.

"Why don't you get us a room?" he removed his helmet and addressed the braided man. "I'll go grab some food and meet you at the room later on."

"Right," Duo nodded and killed his own bike before making his way into the office.

Trowa replaced his helmet and left the parking lot. He stopped at a diner he had spotted on his way in. Thirty minutes later, he arrived back at the motel and parked his bike outside the room Duo had gotten for them. He knocked on the door three times and traded a bag of food for a key to the room.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said quietly. "I'm going to start my investigation with the last person healed."

"How do you even know where he is?" a brow rose over amethyst orbs.

"He's a couple doors down, his car's parked outside his room," the unibanged man replied. "He's a friend of mine."

"Hunting buddy?"

"No, we met at the circus," he shrugged. "He doesn't know about that part of my life."

"If you say so," Duo shrugged and went back inside the room. "Go have fun with your boyfriend," and he kicked the door closed behind him.

Trowa grabbed the other bags from the diner and made his way over to the room with the black Impala parked outside of it. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Delivery."

888888

Inside the motel room, Sam and Dean Winchester shared a look. It was obvious that neither of them were expecting anything, and they had just checked in so no one should be sending them something. Dean shook his head and made his way to the door, while Sam closed his laptop and held his gun discretely under the table.

They shared a nod and the elder opened the portal. Before his eyes could fully adjust to the change in light, he felt something being shoved into his chest. His eyes traveled downward till they landed on an inconspicuous brown paper bag that was giving off the most enticing aroma.

"I brought food," the person on the other side of the door said by way of introduction. "We need to talk."

"Trowa?" green eyes blinked at the other man. "Wait. Dude, are you following me?"

"No, I'm here visiting a friend," the unibanged man pushed his way into the room, nodding at Sam as he did. "Tell me, Dean, why were you at Reverend Le Grange's meeting today? And why did he think you were in need of healing?"

"Hold on," Dean shook his head, "why were you there? You're not the religious type."

"I'm not," Trowa sat down on the nearest bed. "My friend likes to pretend he's religious and invited me along. Now answer my question."

"Look, Trowa, I'm fine," the elder of the brothers ran his hands through his hair. "As you can clearly see, nothing's wrong with me."

"Bullshit, Dean," the unibanged man shook his head. "I saw you in that tent, you looked like death warmed over. Now tell me what the fuck happened?"

"Okay, fine," Dean sent a warning glare at Sam, who had just opened his mouth to protest. "I kinda sorta had a little accident, and sorta ended up electrocuted and had a heart attack. The docs gave me about a week, a month tops. Sammy panicked and in an act of desperation, brought me here."

"I see," the one visible green eye held his gaze. "Why is it that whenever I see you, you are always hurt? You are more accident prone than Heero."

"Who's Heero?" Sam asked slightly confused.

"Don't ask," his brother shook his head, "he won't tell you. Anyway, Trowa, as I said, I'm perfectly fine now. And as you can kinda see, Sammy and I are still kinda looking for our dad, so as good as it is to see you, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

"I will go for now," Trowa frowned. "I have to get back to Duo anyway, but you and I will talk soon, Dean, of that I can promise you."

With that being said, he stood up, placed the bag on the bed and took his leave. As soon as he was gone, Dean darted over to the bed and snatched up the food. He gave an appreciative groan as he opened it and stared at the contents.

"Trowa, you're the best," he said as he pulled out a bacon cheeseburger and fries. "He even got you something, Sammy."

Sam, who had opened his laptop again, gave him a look over the top of the screen, eyeing the food in his brother's hands, "No thanks, I think I'll pass."

"Oh hell no you don't," Dean tossed the bag at his head. "Trowa was nice enough to buy that rabbit food crap for you and you're gonna eat it."

"Rabbit food?" the younger frowned as he caught the bag and looked inside. "He got me a salad? How would he even know?"

"Don't really know," Dean took a bite of his burger. "Trowa's just really observant. First time we hung out, I had to hit the head, and when I came back he'd already ordered, and it was exactly what I wanted."

"Weird," Sam pulled out the salad and began adding the dressing from the bottom of the bag. "Hey, you ever thought about bringing him in on the business? I mean, he's observant, a good tracker, and he does a pretty good imitation of law enforcement."

"Dude, no. He's a civilian, he's one of the people we protect. Remember, we do what we do and we shut up about it."

"Are you so sure about that?" his brother countered. "I mean the civilian part, cause thinking about it, couldn't it be possible that he already knows? Hear me out," he held up his hand to forestall further protests. "You met Trowa on a case with Dad, a case Dad left unfinished. Maybe he left because another Hunter had it handled."

"It's a good theory, Sammy," Dean shook his head, "except for one small problem. I checked out Trowa myself. He checks out, he's been with the circus since he was fifteen."

"Okay, so he has a good cover," Sam continued. "But think about it, he tracked us to Lawrence when no one should've been able to, and then he just happened to show up here, where we think something else supernatural is tied to the faith healer. So if you narrow it down, he's either a Hunter like us, or a cop."

"Now you're just being paranoid," his brother sighed. "Look, let's just finish up this case and move on."

"Yeah, sure."

888888

Trowa sat in the back of Reverend Le Grange's current meeting, waiting for the perfect moment to put his plan into action. He was pretty sure he knew who was the one behind the binding but he had to do this carefully or it could all blow up in his face, and Une would not appreciate that happening again.

The Reverend had just called up his most recent 'victim' when he heard a very familiar voice yelling about a fire. His gaze darted over the now panicking crowd till it landed on his boyfriend. He got to his feet and tried to push his way over but the press of people was too intense. He finally gave up and allowed the masses to take him outside. By the time he got there, however, he had lost sight of his query.

It didn't matter, right now he had a job to do and that took precedence. He made his way to the back of the tent, but paused when he heard voices. Damn, it looked like his opportunity had passed, this time. He'd just have to come back later and try again.

Later that night, Trowa and Duo made their way back to Le Grange's where a closed session was being held to 'heal' one of the congregation.

"Okay," Duo said once they had parked in the back of the lot, "we should split up. There is an alter that needs to be destroyed and an amulet. I can't get near the amulet so you take that one and I'll get the alter."

"Sure you know where it is?" the one visible brow rose in question.

"It's a creepy old farmhouse, there's only a few places it could be," the braided man gave him an incredulous look. "I got this."

They split up, Duo heading toward the house while Trowa made his way to the tent. He didn't see Sue Ann Le Grange, who he had pegged as the one controlling the Reaper, but he would find her.

When Duo reached the house, he stuck to the shadows and made his way around the perimeter. He knew the alter wasn't in the main house, there was too much traffic in and out of there, so he was looking for a basement or a shed.

"Jackpot," he grinned as he spotted the doors to the storm cellar. He removed the two by four keeping the doors closed. Once they were opened, he bypassed the stairs and jumped down, landing catlike at the bottom.

The sight that greeted him was not what he expected. There was an alter alright, but it was scattered all over the floor, clearly destroyed. Next to the overturned table was a tall brunet.

"Who are you?" the taller man asked, raising a board he had in his hand, ready to attack if necessary.

"Duo, Duo Maxwell, I may run and hide but I never tell a lie. And you are?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Nice ta meet ya, Sammy," Duo shook his head. "Anyway, looks like we're on the same mission here, so let's go find my partner and see if it's over."

The two of them left the cellar and headed over to the tent. They arrived just in time to see Trowa grab the amulet from Sue Ann and throw it to the ground, smashing it to pieces. Sam's eyes were glued to the unibanged man while Duo's gaze was locked on an apparently empty spot leading to the parking lot. He gave a subtle nod to the invisible being and an evil grin crossed the Reaper's face as it went after Sue Ann.

"Trowa?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Sam," the former clown sighed, "I don't have time to explain. Tell Dean I'll see him later. Duo, let's go."

"Righto," the braided man nodded. "It was nice meetin' ya, Sammy. Sure I'll see ya around."

With that the pair disappeared into the parking lot. A moment later, Dean appeared at his brother's side.

"Come on, Sammy, let's go," the shorter of the two nudged his brother toward the direction of their car.

"Dude," Sam shook his head as they walked, "we need to talk."

* * *

Ammie: Okay, so there's that chapter. Hope it answered a few questions... and brought up so many more... Anyway, please let me know what you think.


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